


Claddagh

by NSquared



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, Warstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NSquared/pseuds/NSquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Molly are in an undercover mission in Ireland on St. Patrick’s day. Molly has to act as though she was distracted by a vendor-that was trying to sell her a Claddagh ring-she ends up buying it. He asks her later on that she didn’t need to but she explains to him that she was charmed by the meaning behind it. He looks it up and strives to place the ring on the right hand in the right position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claddagh

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the Sherlock characters, this was written completely for fun!

His arm was around her waist.

It was hard not looking like she was taken, _completely_ taken and distracted by the vendor when Sherlock Holmes’ arm was around her waist, acting like he was stealing her wallet in the middle of a festival.

In the string of stands he had planned to bait himself-and her-to the vigilante walking amongst the people, if this-so obviously executed-petty crime didn’t work, then he would have to ask Molly to consensually act like she was about to be attacked in some random alley.

Of course that alley wouldn’t be random at all, all planned, all practiced.

All very well directed by the Consulting Detective himself.

“Take out your wallet.” He whispered-mouth like a ventriloquist-to the ‘strange’ woman.

The petty crime needed to look more obvious than it was at the moment- _however_ “Don’t give it to me.” It most definitely should not look rehearsed.

“How ‘bout it, miss?”

“I’ll buy it.” Molly breathed deep, hid it behind a smile.

She hummed as the vendor put the ring into a box and a tiny jewelry pouch.

“Thank you.”

Like a pebble in gravel, she disappeared into the crowd.

 

“I asked you to take out your wallet, you didn’t need to buy anything.”

“Tell me a situation in which I could take my wallet out and not look suspicious.”

“I-”

“Besides! I actually liked the representation of this ring.” She lifted her hand up, twisted it this way and that as she admired it, _adored_ it “Romantic meaning.” She hummed.

He rolled his eyes and dove back into his mind palace.

_He saw him, of course he did, skirting behind the vendors, looking, watching, waiting._

_Waiting for anyone looking to snip a cheap souvenir._

**_C_ **

_The alley he was ‘escaping’ from was empty. He’d been so sure he was going to be chased. He pulled out the money he’d ‘stolen’ from the strange woman’s pockets. Rifled a bit, crouched down near the ground, looking desperate._

_When no one followed him he stood up, straight, proper, big._

_He pulled out his phone._

**_L_ **

_His mind mapped the dirty alley way, stinky garbage, dead rodents._

_“Plan B?” her voice was honestly too chirpy._

_He couldn’t stop letting a small smile slip away._

_“Plan B.”_

**_A_ **

_“I’ll be back in less than an hour, be there.”_

_“Scouting for our stage?”_

_“Prepare yourself for your next performance, Miss Hooper.”_

_She laughed._

_“I’m here.”_

_He nodded before he heard her goodbye and hung up._

**_D_ **

**_D_ **

**_A_ **

**_G_ **

**_H_ **

“Molly.”

The cotton felt wonderful on her skin, even when she didn’t particularly felt quite ‘wonderful’ as she sprung up on the bed, alert “I didn’t do anything.”

Ah, so it was hours later, she’d already prepared herself to go to sleep.

“I was asleep.”

“You didn’t wake me up for dinner?”

“We _had_ dinner.”

“Oh.”

“What is it? You sounded like you were reprimanding me.” She let out a gasp of a laugh “Was I snoring?”

“No.”

“Because if that’s the case then I can just get my-”

“It’s your ring.”

She frowned as she turned on the lamp beside their bed, she was done talking to a shadow laying in the hotel’s sofa.

“Is it making you uncomfortable? I won’t wear it to tomorrow, I know if he comes after us that’ll give me away.”

He didn’t say much until she decided he wasn’t going to say anything at all and it was time to turn the lamp back off.

“That’s smart.”

“I know.”

 

The coffee was actually tolerable for him.

She despised it.

“Too sweet.”

He only hummed as he prepared to shut down the computer.

“Are you already looking for new cases?”

He turned to her as he drank the last of his coffee.

“Why would you think that?”

“There’s no reason for you to be on the computer for this case. I was just wondering.”

He was looking up the ring. It, as much as it did her, charmed him.

“You’re right, it’s irrelevant.” He snapped the laptop closed. She raised a brow at that.

“Don’t break it, sheesh.” She gave a light laugh.

She seemed to be laughing a lot. But it was always those brief ones, those brief monosyllabic laughs. Not any less genuine however. Just something he noticed.

“Again irrelevant.”

“Again, didn’t say anything.”

He blinked.

“Let’s go.”

 

She would walk ahead of him for fifteen minutes and he would go around town, same disguise, today however, Molly’s hair was a frizzy red.

Completely necessary.

Her long straight hair had been dyed temporarily; she curled her hair stringy today. Yesterday, she had her hair in a scarf, and tied to look like she had black bangs.

Today her hair was down, curly, and red.

It was frustrating.

Because she still made him feel the _things_ in his stomach.

Short bobbed black hair, long and straight brown hair, or red stringy hair, it didn’t matter.

He sneered.

 

His hand was rough, and that was probably what shocked her, even though she was expecting him, down to the second.

His hand was rough on her bare arm.

Rough as he’d walked alongside her and dragged her into the alley, she prepared to act like she was about to scream, his large hand, goodness she’d almost forgotten how _massive_ it was nearly encompassed her entire face as he roughly pushed her up and kept her quiet.

They would make it look like he was hurrying, she would know though, they would be stalling, waiting for the vigilante to save her.

He said nasty things, filthy things.

It was a good thing he was covering her mouth, because she almost laughed.

He jerked her, it was time to be serious, he felt hands against his own arms, knew the stunner was there before it was activated.

The vigilante was a woman.

Molly had been right to reprimand him about ruling that out after all.

As they both joined one another to help point the stunner towards _her_ instead, Molly laughed.

So inappropriate.

“There’s always something.” He almost grinned as he said it.

 

They were back home.

Of course they let the young girl go though.

She was only trying to make the world a better place.

Sherlock was hesitant, if Molly hadn’t paid for the girl’s martial arts lessons for the next few months he would have definitely turned her over.

_“Be legal about your ways, won’t you? Superheroes don’t exist.” Molly had cupped the young girls face in her hands, her small, quite nice hands “But heroes do. Go be a proper hero and learn to protect yourself first before you get out there. No more being ‘trigger happy’ okay?”_

_Sherlock was perplexed._

_Was this how confident shew as when he wasn’t around?_

_The young girl had sobbed and nodded._

_“You’re a silly, silly girl. But that doesn’t mean you can’t grow out of that. Go do something.” She scrunched her nose, he almost gushed “Just be a little bit, just a little bit” she made a gesture with her hand, the girl wasn’t sobbing anymore, she was laughing instead “just a little bit more legal, hm?”_

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

So he called Mycroft and confirmed.

“I assume you’ve taken care of it.”

“No.”

“Brother de-”

“Molly Hooper has.” He smirked as he watched her struggle to drag her luggage from the conveyer belt “Make sure you reimburse her for her trouble.” He said last before he swaggered his way towards her.

She looked up, a cheerful look on her face, success with her bags, he presumed.

“We’re home!” ah.

Always something.

Even in the littlest of things.

 

They were home, truly.

Literally however, it was not so, he hadn’t gone back to 221B even after he’d dined at Speedy’s with her.

He’d flagged a cab down for her, let her see him walk up the steps until the cab turned around the corner.

Then he flagged a cab of his own.

“John.”

“Case went well?” there was a big smile on the new father’s face.

“Gained a few more pounds, I see.”

“It’s not fat.”

Sherlock looked confused as he followed his best friend into their home.

“I didn’t say you were fat.”

“No, I meant, if I _had_ gained weight, it’s not fat.”

“Working out? I can’t imagine.” The banter was always a relief for the two of them.

“Carrying the baby up and down the hall, running errands, Mary, all that, it’s enough of an exercise.”

They laughed when the light of the household came out of the kitchen, pastries prepared.

“Muscles.” Sherlock laughed.

“How’d the case go, Sherlock?” Mary asked, then lifted up a hand to stop him “How did the case go _Uncle_ Sherlock?” he almost cringed.

The baby voices would do the literal baby more harm than good, no matter how cute they thought it was.

“Perfect, little Watson.” He took the babe from the mother “No superhero, just a girl making a change in the world.”

“You turn her into Mycroft?”

“Can’t think of a reason why Mycroft was even alerted of her, she was ‘saving lives’ in Dublin wasn’t she?” The ex-assassin and the working Consulting Detective stared at the ex-army doctor.

“You should be more imaginative.” His wife suggested as she nuzzled herself into his arm, they watched the Detective play with their child.

“I didn’t turn her in.”

“No?” John wondered, Mary only raised her brows, they met eyes.

“How come Uncle Sherlock?”

“Mary please.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

“Liar.” The Detective took hold of the baby’s hand and pointed at the mother “You _can_ you just don’t want to.”

“It’s weird looking at the baby and hearing your voice.”

“I don’t do baby talk.”

“When you get one of your own you will.”

Everything pause at that.

How had that even gone through his mouth?

John was surprised with himself as well, he shrugged at his wife who stared.

There was one thing more surprising than that however, and it was the fact that no denial came, only a remark.

A remark that left them amused and quite intrigued.

“I’m not going to get married.”

The pause was no longer a pause, it was a stop, an altogether stop.

“Well yes, of course” John carried along, really quiet intrigued about where this was going “you’re already married.”

Sherlock stopped playing with the baby, looked up and frowned.

“To your job, right? That’s what you said. You’re married to your work?”

He looked down again, to the baby but he didn’t resume playing, instead he shifted arms and walked about the room.

He hummed.

“I’m not going to get married.”

“As you’ve said.”

“Not like how _you_ have, John, Mary.”

The couple tilted their heads, a better angle should allow them a better way to understand things, to confirm exactly, what was going on.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Because we’re not insulted.”

“If you’re not insulted, it’s not an insult.”

“I honestly don’t know how you’re still alive with those socializing skills alone.” John shook his head, strode towards him and plucked his child out of his best friend’s arms.

“Afraid little Watson might catch on a bit of this?” he gestured to himself, the cupcakes were still hot but he was hungry, despite dining with Molly.

“Out with it already, Sherlock.”

“Impatient, Mary?”

“I almost forgot! How was Molly? You’ve taken a liking to taking her to cases nowadays.” John said, distracted by his darling baby.

So of course it would only be Mary looking up at him, truly _observing_ him when he reacted to the question.

She hummed to hide her gasp.

“She was the reason actually.”

“For what?”

“Don’t say thing simultaneously like that, it’s a bit disturbing, really.” Sherlock stalled.

“Sherlock.” It wasn’t only Mary who was being impatient now.

“She was the reason why I didn’t turn the girl into Mycroft.”

“That’s not the first time you let a ‘bad guy’ go.” John frowned.

“Sh, John let him continue.” The Doctor, amused at his wife, used their child’s tiny chubby fingers to pinch her cheeks, they laughed.

“She bought a claddagh ring.”

“Those are charming!” Mary gushed.

“Sh, Mary, let him continue.”

“John!”

“Mary!”

“They are.”

“Wait-”

“What?”

“I said they _are_ charming.” He picked up another cupcake.

His hunger was nonexistant, he was _stress_ eating, really Sherlock?

“She told me about how she liked their meaning, I was curious, I looked it up and…” he chewed while the couple all but exploded.

“And what?”

“Again with the simultaneity, it makes me feel as though you can read each other’s thoughts-is that what marriage really is?”

“And what, Uncle Sherlock?”

He gave them a blank look.

Simultaneous baby talking was unquestionably worse. So he swallowed and nodded.

“She’s following the rules. Right hand, right ring finger, pointed _away_ from her means she’s single. Pointed _towards_ her, she’s in a relationship. Left hand, left ring finger, pointed _away_ from her, she’s engaged. _Towards_ her…” he turned in order to hide the stupid smile on his face.

“She’s married.”

“And what position would you like to change the ring to, Sherlock?”

 

“It’s on the wrong hand, wrong finger.” He complained.

She knew immediately what he was talking about.

“No, I _am_ single.” She looked to the other side of the room as she disected the brain “Not quite ready to mingle yet again, but pretty single.” She looked up behind her , at him “Why?”

“It should be on your left hand, pointed away from you.”

“You’re not mocking me are you? Sherlock you know it’s been months since-”

“I’m proposing to you, Molly Hooper.”

Unsurprisingly she was taken by surprise.

“Sherlock-” she looked down, then up and behind her again “right _now_? Really?” she gave him a nervous laugh.

“You don’t seem to be surprised about the fact that I just proposed to you, despite the fact that we _aren’t_ dating.”

She scrunched her nose.

This time he let himself gush, a great big smile on his face, he returned the nose scrunch.

“Nothing’s ever the right order or the normal thing with you.” She put her instruments in their right places and took her gloves off, she laid them carefully on the table “ _But_ you do ge tthings done, in your own time, in your own way.”

“Did you expect me to?”

“No, not really, because you have more to say.”

His great big smile turned warm.

“You can see me.”

“Always.”

“I’m not… I’m not ready to get married yet.”

“I know.”

He nodded, in previous attempts, and those were to ask her if they could ever be something more, now, now he knew they could never be anything less, he would have looked away, because as hard as he tried to look, to appear, to _be_ intimidating, Molly Hooper’s big brown eyes were everything compared to his nothing.

“Thank you, for knowing.” He sighed, that’s a massive load off of him “It makes things much more simpler.”

She only smiled and waited for him.

Like she always would, but goodness, now he knew it in himself that he coulnd’t do that ot her anymore.

“I’m not prepared, I’m… I’m not ready to get married yet, Molly Hooper, but”

“Breathe.” She mouthed, eyes smiling, mouth… mouth as delectable as ever.

“But I can’t think of anyone else I would rather spend the rest of my life with, than alone, by myself, pining for John.”

She laughed.

“Acceptance, _admittance_ is a great step.” She nodded, then truly thought about the part of his sentence talking about _her._

“Say it again” when did her nose get clogged? “clearer this time.” When did her strong voice start to waver?

“I’m not ready to be married yet, but I can’t think of anyone else in this world that I would rather spend my life with, then be alone ‘till the end of my days, but you… Molly Hooper. I promise you, it will take a long time for me to be ready, I’m only… I’m only preparing myself now, but I… I _will_ marry you.”

He matched her clogged nose and wavering voice with teary eyes and a quivering lip and chin.

“I’ll be there, Sherlock Holmes.”

Their intake of breath, accompanied by sniffles and coughs to get the phlegm out of the way were simultaneous. They stared for a bit longer, before he finally did what he’d crave to do for so long.

Sherlock Holmes held Molly Hooper in his arms, and goodness, it was better than he’d imagined, because he always held her, but right now… right now as he let himself go and sobbed freely into her hair she held him back.

“Wouldn’t be a wedding if the bride didn’t turn up.” His nose was just as clogged as hers now.

“I didn’t think it would be this emotional.” She laughed out.

He pulled away and she retrieved tissues for the both of them.

“That’s the last time that’ll happen.” He remarked as he looked down at her, they wiped the tears away.

She laughed.

She’d seemed to do that more often now. It’s fantastic.

 

John was asleep in the lab. Good reason as well, it was two in the morning after all.

Just when Molly’s shift was about to start.

“I did something.” Her voice was quiet but it was excited as she’d confidently entered the lab and saw Sherlock sat in front of a microscope.

“In the middle of a case.”

“I think you’re gonna love it.”

“I don’t _love_ inanimate objects.”

She only hummed and made sure that the _other_ occupant of the room was still asleep.

When she’d finished rounding the table she took his hand.

He closed his eyes and sighed “Molly-” he stopped himself when he saw what was in her hands.

Her face was alight with love.

He knew it was poetic but what else could have described that look on her face? He gushed. Inwardly, of course, he had a reputation to keep.

“It’s a claddagh ring for you.” She dropped it into his hand, then picked it up again, the confidence wearing away “You don’t-you don’t have to wear it of course.” she fiddled with the anatomically accurate heart held by skeleton hands.

“I just thought I’d get you one as well.” She scrunched her nose again, and it was so hard not to scrunch his nose back as he gushed, still inwardly “For sentiment’s sake.” She giggled quietly, then did what he’d been waiting for her to do.

“We don’t have to do this, we don’t have to wear rings at all-when we get married-” he didn’t know why she had to clarify that but the inward gushing was almost overwhelming, because she was simply adorable, as in, he couldn’t think of doing anything else but adore her at that moment “but I just wanted you to have this one, specifically.” His mind swam, flooded by the meaning of her words and the way she spoke them, as if her voice took on a physical form and caressed his heart with it “To remind you, even if you don’t wear it, that your heart.” The heart he could hear pumping blood into him now, as he watched her slowly, so _slowly_ slide the ring on his ring finger, facing _him,_ “Metaphorical, and _literal_ ” She knew what she was doing to him as she twisted the ring and pointed it towards her “Are mine.”

The silver ring touched the base of his left ring finger, facing _her._

He could’ve sworn she smirked, the minx, before she laid a kiss on his hand and left him to merrily perform the autopsies of his murder victims.

He caressed the heart, it _was_ in every way, anatomically accurate.

“Nice bling.”

“Shut up.”


End file.
